Does it make sense?

It’s been quite some time since I wrote anything, really. It’s like my imagination and creativity along with all the spite climbed down a sewer, ran into a wall hand in hand when they were high on weed and whiskey and passed out into eternal slumber. A funny thing though, I’ve managed to keep my head on my shoulders for once (which quite honestly never happens). I even started reading a book (something I haven’t done for a long time). The relationships I maintained with people have deteriorated to such an extent that they look like one of those drunken beggars dancing to the music of the honking rickshaw-wallas at Kurla station.

Embarking on it seems as difficult as threading a needle while on your fifth tequila shot. So I simply reverted from being a kind, honest, gentleman to being the mean, sloppy, perverted, diabolical, sexist, racist asshole I used to be. Much to my surprise, it’s paid off! It’s one of those instances where people tell you what to do and you the exact opposite – it’s so sadistically enchanting, much like the excitement a burglar gets when he or she robs something precious.

The only thing I figured out so far is that being uncertain, lost, confused and ignorant of your surroundings helps a lot sometimes. Being inappropriate, goofy and an annoyance that vexes the creatures we call humans vindicates you of your boredom but the same cannot be said about the ones being vexed. Nothing is supposed to make sense because once you get down to digging into it; nothing really does (just like this post, it’s not supposed to make sense, if it does – well, good for you).